


Dear Diary

by thekeyholder



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Diary/Journal, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: God has noticed Aziraphale and Crowley's interesting bond since the dawn of time, but the two are incredibly frustrating and oblivious. Meddling ensues, Satan ruins the plans sometimes just for fun, God is a hardcore shipper.





	Dear Diary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spickerzocker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spickerzocker/gifts).



> Written for spickerzocker for the Good Omens Holidays Exchange 2018. Hope you enjoy this silliness, it was so fun to write it!

**The Beginning**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
Hmm, is it weird to address my words to an object that doesn’t even exist yet? Eh, who cares, I will make humans do the same.   
  
Anyway, I started writing this because something AMAZING happened today! I usually know what the deal is, but these two just snuck up on me! As a famous saying goes, I didn’t choose the shipper life, the shipper life chose me!  
  
I’m talking about Aziraphale and the ex-angel Crawly (who’s now a snake. And a demon. Snake demon. Snemon? Ha!). Crawly was supposed to tempt Eve, which he did splendidly, and Aziraphale gave the humans the flaming sword. It was hilarious that he thought I wouldn’t find out! Honestly, he just makes things so much funnier!   
  
But then they started talking, and they somehow just got along so well. I thought it was mere amiability, but then Crawly changed into his humanoid form when he crawled down from the apple tree. As they were watching Adam and Eve flee Eden, rain started pouring. Aziraphale lifted a white wing and held it over Crawly, shielding him from the rain.  
  
Such a simple gesture, but somehow in that moment  _I just knew._  Black and white, white and black. Absolutely perfect. Crawly thanked Aziraphale, but I don’t think either of them realised what would follow. The serpent soon went back down.  
  
Hm, maybe… maybe that was all. I probably read too much into it. I mean, Crawly will likely stay in Hell for a while, so it's impossible. Actually… Aziraphale needs to be punished for “losing” the flaming sword, so there's that. I could send him to Earth. There, that's half the distance. I’ll give Lucifer a call, he owes me a favour.  
  
  


**4011 B.C. or something (This backwards counting is annoying. It's not even used yet, why am I doing this to myself)**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
Well, well, well… guess who met again. That's right, Aziraphale and Crawly! Sorry, he goes by Crowley nowadays. What were the chances of both being in Mesopotamia at the same time! Well, I suppose rather high, but you get what I mean.  
  
It's cute how they're trying to be enemies. Crowley even hissed at Aziraphale when the angel tried to warn Alulim, the king of Eridu, about the danger that would come from the sea. The way they stare at each other speaks volumes, though.  
  
Oh, now he's threatening Aziraphale in private. Cornering him against a stone wall and leaning in, whispering. My, someone's thirsty af! Of course, Aziraphale is not scared. He just laughs and leaves. That guy doesn't seem to read body language well.  
  
  


**Delphi, 601 B.C.**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
Sorry for abandoning you, old friend, busy times.  
  
Aziraphale and Crowley have been pretending to be enemies for more years than I care. It’s all an act, really; they’re not fooling anyone. Thwarting each other with less conviction every time, discorporating each other with heavy hearts and so on. Which is not bad for us (I mean both sides), as we can experiment with the different bodies, see which ones are the most attractive (so far it seems Crowley enjoys Aziraphale on the chubby side. Good choice, demon boy).  
  
They have met again in Delphi - they are both part of different delegations who came to seek advice from the Oracle. Waiting in the temple, they ogle each other, but don’t exchange words. Maybe it’s meddling, but the Oracle receives her first real divine guidance. The drugs affect her communication skills, though.  
  
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she exclaims, and the slip of paper is given to both leaders.  
  
Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other, gazes interlocking through the crowd. Neither says a word, but they nod at each other before they leave.  
  
Oh, I hope this means they will get very close!   
  
  


**Alexandria, 48 B.C.**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
You know how sad events bring people together? The library caught fire. Aziraphale was there, of course, trying to salvage books, risking his life. Crowley caught him by his robe when it got too dangerous, and they shared this look, their eyes reflecting the loss and the flames. They watched it burn down to cinders together, then Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, in a soothing gesture. It was so sweet.  
  
  


**Rome, every damn day**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
These boys love their wine. Way too much. That's all they do! For crying out loud, they were supposed to stumble into bed by now.  
  
  


**Constantinople, 1020**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
I am happy to report that there's finally some progress with these two idiots! They made an Arrangement. Sadly, not the living together type, but the one where they promise not to interfere in each other's work. Isn't that sweet? The ‘enemies to friends’ trope came alive. Only took 5 millennia! I wonder how long until ‘friends to lovers.’ Hopefully less time, or I might just combust alive.  
  
  


**Catalonia, 1428**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
I think I overdid it today. You know how a while ago I had the idea to try earthquakes, and maybe the two resident idiots would fall into each other's arms? I've produced them a few times last year, but they never worked. Either Aziraphale caught the corner of a table, or Crowley just slept through the whole thing (all obstacles courtesy of Lucifer. He likes to mess with my plans.)  
  
So now I was really looking out for them, waiting for the perfect moment. Aziraphale did catch Crowley, but then both toppled over and hit their heads. It was a true catastrophe; not romantic at all. Almost ended up discorporating. And a lot of buildings were destroyed in the process.   
  
Oops...  
  
  


**France, 1702**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
I don't know what to say. Crowley went to sleep. I mean, yes, this habit of his is weird, but he said he wants to sleep  _through_  the century. I don't think I can deal with this hiatus. What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Aziraphale and Crowley are my OTP. Yes, I'm an all-knowing, immortal being, but a hundred years is still a hundred years.  _Medamnit._  Guess I'll just ask Gabriel to make a best-of montage. Judging by the number of times they’ve lovingly gazed at each other, it will be quite long.  
  
  


**France, 1755**

  
Dear Diary,   
  
I said the hiatus is going to kill me and it is. But it also a testament to the fantastic bond these two have… Since Crowley is out in a sleep coma, Aziraphale is responsible for doing his job, which is quite honestly, incredibly funny. He prays every time before committing something “bad”, like making a stain appear on a prominent figure’s clothing or making people slip on ice. You know what is funnier? The “mischief” he does in the name of good is often worse. Like selfishly acquiring rare books by making other people not see them. What a rogue!  
  
Crowley might be sleeping, but he sometimes dreams of Aziraphale. Isn't that sweet? I swear I didn't have anything to do with that, it's all his mind producing them. Just cute images of his angel.   
  
  


**London, 1801**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
He has risen!  
  
I mean Crowley, not J-boy. Although the circumstances are suspicious, as what rose him was a rather… hot dream. I guess Satan, or Lucifer, or whatever his name is nowadays had a hand in it.  
  
It didn't matter, though. Aziraphale was there for him, cup of tea for both as they sat in the bedroom. Crowley was silent, sneaking looks at Aziraphale while the angel briefly caught him up with the century's events.  
  
“Well, that's about it. I will bring you some appropriate clothes for this period.”  
  
Ugh, I didn't think he'd do it, but Crowley took Aziraphale's hand and thanked him. His first words after sleeping for a century were “Thanks, angel.” Then Aziraphale fondly tousled his hair and replied, “It's good to have you back, my dear boy.”  
  
Oh, my shipper heart!  
  
  


**London, 1888**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
A wild… Wilde appeared. He hangs around that oblivious angel too much. Soirée after soirée, and honestly, he's getting on my nerves. I should probably follow Crowley's example and just drink, drink, and drink.   
  
The only positive thing that came out about this is that Wilde took Aziraphale to a “discreet” gentlemen's club. The angel didn't realise what exactly its purpose is, but he learned the gavotte. Shame it will go out of fashion so soon.  
  
  


**London, 1892**

  
Dear Diary,  
 _Medamn_  it, Wilde just keeps ruining things! The other night, Aziraphale invited Crowley to the theatre. Poor demon boy didn't realise it was going to be  _The Importance of Being Earnest._  I mean, the play is a lot of fun, but not when it was written by your rival who's fighting for your sweetheart. So Crowley sat there tense, glaring at the stage even harder when Aziraphale would laugh.  
  
The worst was when after it ended, Aziraphale went to congratulate Wilde. He even produced a bouquet and then kissed his cheek. Crowley pretty much vanished into thin air after that, bless his heart. The suffering is unbearable! Oh, my poor babies! I need some fluff to recover.  
  
  


**London, 1895**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
The ugliest and most abominable rumours reached me today. Apparently there are some angels who ship Aziraphale with Oscar Wilde.   
  
HOW DARE THEY, IN MY OWN HOUSE!   
  
Such betrayal! They say the two are better suited for each other. They call it  _Oscaraphale._  Worst ship name EVER! I refuse to even listen to them. How about  _no._  I don't like seeing them even breathing the same air, let alone imagine them kissing or something. Yikes.  
  
Ohhh. I guess they are my NOTP. Huh. So that's what it feels like.  
  
I don't care if they will think I am overreacting, but it's time to move Wilde from the picture.   
  
Bye, Felicia!  
  
  


**London (seems like they settled down), 1952**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
So what did I miss? I went on a little holiday of 40 years. Just needed to get away from all this. Yeah, a lot of shit went down… probably shouldn't have left Michael in charge.  
  
These two are still not together. I could blame it on Satan, but I think it's Aziraphale and Crowley who are so bloody stubborn. At least Gabriel informed me that they saved each other's lives a few times in the wars, so there's that.  
  
I once caught Aziraphale taking a nap while he was reading a boring book and sent him a dream where Crowley was a hunk. Shut up, I'm desperate. I know Aziraphale was affected, but he didn't do anything. If anything, he even feared looking at his demon bud…  
  
Maybe I should lock them together in a tiny room? Make mistletoe magically pop up over their heads next Christmas? Have Gabriel write love letters on their behalf? Ah no, he has a rather flowery style. *shudder*   
  
  


**GAYTOWN! I mean London, 1990**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
The archangels have just finished organising the 4th edition of the Aziraphale and Crowley Shipping Olympics. The ACSO for short. We got a record number of submissions, across all categories, but Smut seems to be the most popular. Can't blame them! The UST levels are over 9000!  
  
There are so many categories, from good old fluff to the angstiest of angst, though I must admit my favourite might be AUs, particularly human AUs. When they don't have any powers, and they aren't tied to any side, so they can't help it and just fall for each other.  
  
The fics just go on and on, we all clap and cry together. The tissues go round when Hanael reads her angst fest, truly a masterpiece of how Crowley deserts to our side so they can be together. No eye remains dry. This is the best ACSO ever.   
  
The last one to present their story is Metatron, my official writer. Of course everyone is holding back their breath, and we're not disappointed. He knows how partial I am to human AUs and he gave us a beautiful one where Aziraphale opens up a bookshop next to Crowley's flower shop. Oooh, I wish I could marry that fic!!!  
  
But then as he reads the happy ending, something inside me starts aching so badly, that I can barely see the group of angels gathered around. Despite the beauty and emotions in these stories, they are fictional. Fake. Non-existent. For a moment, I want to lash out at them, but there’s no point. It’s not their fault. I wait for the end to make the announcement.  
  
“Thank you for each and every one of you, this is truly the best ACSO we’ve ever had. While they made me extremely happy, they've also made me realise just how far away the real versions of Aziraphale and Crowley are from these. It's been six millennia. Maybe they're not meant to be. So, in order to test them, I decided to start the Apocalypse.”  
  
Panicked murmur erupts from the crowd, the word Apocalypse on everyone's lips. I can see they're worried, asking each other if they heard correctly. Michael is the first one to raise his concern.  
  
“Father, surely there can be something else we could do. Starting the Apocalypse is… extreme.”  
  
“It's not just them, Michael. The world is getting shittier with each day. It's better if we start now, or else Trump will become president.”  
  
That shut everyone up.  
  
“Alright, let's do it then. Sound the horns.”  
  
When I called Satan, he just straight up laughed for five minutes. “Okay, weirdo, I'll send the Antichrist to Earth.”  
  
  


**A few days later**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
Aziraphale and Crowley are already plotting. They want to stop the Apocalypse. Aww, aren't they adorable? Want to hear something even better? They decided to raise the Antichrist together, but they got the wrong baby. LOL.  
  
  


**11 years later**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
Shit's about to go down.  
  
Not literally, of course.  
  
So the last time I wrote, those buffoons were about to realise they got the wrong kid. Their faces were Oscar-worthy. They thought they wasted 11 years, but in fact they just grew closer than ever. Their walk in St. James's Park followed by dinner at the Ritz thing became a weekly ritual, generously peppered with longing looks and soft touches. Meanwhile, the only copy of  _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch_  resurfaced, along with the Four Horsemen and a bunch of other people. It's complicated.  
  
The other side is very nonchalant about this whole thing. They only care about the Antichrist, which I guess is understandable, as it's their only shot at taking over. I wish I could see Satan's face when he discovers that his son is just a normal child, with some superpowers.  
  
Not long ago, Crowley did something that proved, yet again, his love for the angel. He got to the bookshop and saw it was aflame, and he assumed Aziraphale was inside. Without caring for his safety, he ran inside.   
  
I JUST CAN'T. HE WAS READY TO SACRIFICE HIS LIFE FOR AZIRAPHALE!!! Now tell me that's not real love!  
  
  


**After the Apocalypse that Wasn’t**

  
Dear Diary,  
  
The Antichrist stopped the Apocalypse. Huh, who would have thought… I will buy him a drink when he's of age. Aziraphale and Crowley declared their love for each other (well, not literally), and then held hands as they waited for the battle to unfold. I'm going to frame that picture and put it by the reception, so everyone sees it. It's going to be beautiful!   
  
Aziraphale and Crowley are now driving back to London in a “borrowed” car, classical music playing quietly. It will soon turn to Queen’s  _You're My Best Friend._ Just a reminder for them. Crowley is unusually quiet, his eyes focused on the road. Aziraphale doesn't say anything either, despite the palpable tension.  
  
Things change when they make it to Soho. Aziraphale stares at the ruins of the bookshop. Crowley's heart is breaking, and he stands next to his angel, reaching out for him.   
  
“I'm so ssssorry, Aziraphale. I couldn't save it, I knew it even before running inside; the flames were too high and powerful… We'll fix it, okay? Or, or get you a new one.”  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“Get you a new bookshop? I-I mean, if-if you want to-”  
  
“No, before that. You ran into the bookshop while it was burning?”  
  
Crowley frowns, nods slightly.  
  
“For me?”  
  
Crowley nods again, more confidently.  
  
Aziraphale pulls Crowley in a fierce hug, pressing a hot kiss to his temple. “My dear boy.”  
  
The demon clings to him, basks in Aziraphale's affection. “I didn't want to lose you,” he murmurs so lowly that only Aziraphale and I can hear him.  
  
Aziraphale takes his demon boy's face between his hands and looks him deep in the eyes.   
  
“You'll never lose me.”  
  
AND THEY KISS!!! THEY FINALLY KISS!  
  
Pretty sure that I cheered so hard that stardust is falling all around Aziraphale and Crowley (not that they would notice, they are too busy checking each other's tonsils).  
  
They decide to go to Crowley's place, which is a very wise decision, considering the state of the bookshop. Once they get there, they don't lose too much time. It's like all the barriers and walls they have built in the last six millennia are breaking down, their touches and kisses fervent. They’ve just survived the Apocalypse, so there’s not a minute to be wasted.  
  
Wow, Crowley is really good with his tongue, isn’t he? They’re practically ripping each other’s clothes off, and I suppose this is my clue to look somewhere else, but you know, after so many years, I really needed to make sure that they are following through with it.   
  
I must say Aziraphale seems suspiciously knowledgeable… maybe those naughty books Satan sneaked into his bookshop did prove useful.   
  
My OTP is finally canon!!! Take that, Satan!


End file.
